


kizunahanashi

by airamcg



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Mental Health Issues, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airamcg/pseuds/airamcg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year after the war, Ty Lee faces her demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kizunahanashi

 

 

_left in this hand you used to hold_

_is the empty feeling of your last touch_

_break the thread that's starting to come loose_

_to sleep with these gathered words_

(“Regret” by The GazettE)

 

* * *

 

I see red. 

Everything is red.

I grip the front of her shirt, balling the blood red fabric in my fists. That exact shade never suits me—something about it clashes with my complexion. I've always preferred pink anyway, because it's a happy color.

I haven't worn pink since the war.

Red, though, is the color of passion, of blood, of fire. It's perfect for her.

I slam her against the wall, but she grins as if she's enjoying herself, as if she got me to do exactly what she wants. I slam her again, and she laughs.

"So," she drawls, "even my prized bitch bites the hand that feeds."

"You don't own me, Azula," I spit. "Not anymore."

"Keep telling yourself that."

I want to hit her, to shut her up. I raise a fist above my head, ready to strike, then I freeze. Red threads have looped around my wrists, stopping me. They pull and tug from various angles, but always towards her, until we are pressed together flesh against flesh.

"Let me go!" I struggle against my bonds in hopes I could slip away, but they won't give. Her hold on me is firm. Calloused hands roam my body, stripping away the layers I've hid myself behind, and I couldn't completely bite back the guttural moans bubbling up inside me. I hate that she's getting under my skin again, but her touch feels so good. No, this is wrong and I should stop her. And yet I give up all efforts to get away.

I hate myself for wanting her.

"You're mine, Ty Lee," she breathes into my ear, before biting on it hard. "It's your destiny. Get over it."

Her hand drifts lower as she delves deeper. 

And I let her.

 

*

 

I catapult up from my cot, gasping awake. Cold sweat covers my trembling body, much like that one time I narrowly escaped becoming Unagi food. This is much worse than the Unagi, though. I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing, willing it to synchronize with the peaceful snores of my squad mates. I envy them sometimes. Although we've all been through war, prison, and torture, their nightmares never get as bad as the ones haunting me. Except maybe for Suki. She knows a little of the Azula I know, but her experience is only a taste of what I've had to endure for years.

Breathe in through the nose, then breathe out through the mouth. I center myself and feel for the flow of energy within my body. Focus, and then let go. When I open my eyes, I am in control again.

I carefully slip out of Suki's embrace and sneak into the darkness.

The plan is supposed to be simple: take a walk, clear my head, go back to sleep. But my green pajamas are sticking to my body like a second skin and it's making me uncomfortable. I need to change. Rummaging through my baggage chest, I find a red tank top from my Avatar-chasing days and a spare Kyoshi Warrior kimono. It's a little funny to see them side by side, the old and the new. I toy with a thread sticking out the frayed edges of the top, just to have my hands something to do, as I weighed the pros and cons of wearing either. Ultimately, I decide to wear both, the tank top under the kimono, and head out.

It's a cloudless night in Capital City, as is usual towards the end of summer. There are fewer residents now than when I use to live here, and even way fewer lamps on. Immersed in the darkness, I clearly see the milky Celestial River against the black sky. It reminds me of the nights when Azula, Mai, and I used to climb up the roof of the palace's East Wing to watch the stars. Back then, Mai would sometimes tell us Earth Kingdom stories in the language of women-- legends about love, punishment, and destiny.

 

*

 

"That's Zhi Nu," she once said during one of those nights, pointing to a particularly bright star. "The Weaver of the Sky. She fell in love with the cow-shepherd Niu Lang and neglected her duties, so the gods punished them both by turning them into stars at opposite shores of the Celestial River. They can only meet during the Qixi Festival, and only if it doesn't rain because they need magpie-eagles to make a bridge for them, for some reason."

"That's just soooo sad!" I cried out, wiping tears away with my wristbands. "Why did it need to be that sad? I thought love stories are supposed to have happy endings."

"Well, what did you expect when you asked _Mai_ to tell you one?" Azula rolled her eyes at me. "Besides, romance is just a waste of time."

"I think romance is wonderful." I cling to Azula's arm to stop her from rolling her eyes even more. "Oh c'mon, Azula! Even _you_ have to admit that a red thread binding you to your soul mate is pretty cool, at the very least."

"Well, I suppose if I really had that string tied to my little finger..." She glanced at her pinky, and then looked at me sadly. "I think I might just end up strangling the person on the other end."

 

*

 

A cold ache in my left hand shakes me out of my reverie. My index finger has turned blue, an errant thread cutting off my circulation. I must have put it there earlier, then forgot about it when I got dressed. I bite on it until it comes loose. Warmth and relief return to my finger too fast too soon, it actually hurt. But this pain is still much better than the alternative— a dead finger and a part of me lost forever. Funny how a thread could do so much damage.

Sometimes, I wonder about the red thread of fate. To be tied to another person for all eternity, throughout all your lifetimes... is it really a blessing, or a curse? If that kind of destiny is real, won’t that diminish choice to nothing more than an illusion? And what would happen if the fated souls become too absorbed in each other that they can no longer see anything outside of their mutual bond?

I think I already know the answer.

I stare at the thread in my hands for a while, and then let it drift away with the wind. I bow my head as I move on, turning away from the sky and from my memories.

The White Tower is just off the palace gardens.

I want to know how much a mere thread can weather.

 

 

 _kizunahanashi_ (絆話)

—a story about bonds/relationships

 

* * *

 

 

_but you come around in your time, speaking of fabulous places_

_create an oasis that dries up as soon as you're gone_

_you leave me here burning in this desert without you_

(“Stupid” by Sarah McLachlan)

 

* * *

 

Behind closed doors, the court called her 彼岸花— the red spider lily that blossoms on graves. The flower of the dead. Beautiful and poisonous, they’d scorn. But she’d just clandestinely smile at me and I would remember the true meaning of its name: “the flower leading to Nirvana.”

It was her favorite flower.

She pushed me down on a bed of them once, their spiny petals poking my bare skin. "Red suits you like this," she said, breathing hotly into my ear. 

We made love for the first time that day.

She screamed when she reached her climax, blue flames bursting out of her mouth as she arched her back. It was like witnessing a dragon commune with its god, and I beheld it all with much awe. A strange but welcome heat swelled in my bosom, for knowing I had caused that moment in her.

When I brought myself up to lie beside her, I noticed something trickling down her cheeks.

"Are you crying?" I asked. She promptly rubbed the tears away from her eyes. 

"Don't tell anyone about this," she snapped, but it lacked her usual sting.

I gently caressed her face, brushing away at a droplet she missed. "Of course not."

Sinewy arms wrapped around my neck as she pulled me down towards her. I closed my eyes and relished in her embrace.

"Don't you ever leave me, Ty Lee." Her whisper was like a child's, vulnerable and begging.

I planted a kiss on her lips.

"I won't."

 

That day, she branded me as hers and hers alone. And I would forever bear the marks of her ownership.

 

*

 

Suki was so shocked the first time she saw them.

"She did this? To _you_?" Disbelief and pity oozed out of her every word. I automatically tugged at my wrists to hide them, but since we were bathing at the time, I wasn't wearing my usual armbands.

"Oh, she didn't mean to," I said. Because it was the truth. 

"And there?" She pointed at the burn scars on my inner thighs. It didn't take a genius to know the circumstances of how I got them.

"She didn't mean those, either." Because it was the truth.

Suki just shook her head and didn't say anything more on the subject.

But sometimes, when she thinks I'm not looking, I catch her staring at my wrists, at the hand-shaped scars I hide under my sleeves.

 

*

 

I self-consciously tug on my sleeves to keep the coldness from seeping into my bones. It's uncharacteristically chilly for a night at the end of summer. The spider lilies are even starting to bloom way too early for their season. I stop to pick a few choice blossoms to make a bouquet of sorts. Just for old time's sake, I tell myself.

I leave them outside the door.

Past the flowerbeds, The White Tower looms over the city. It seems to glow eerily in the darkness, most probably due to the whitewashed stone bricks that make up its facade. Its only entrance is through a thick set of wooden gates that require four strong to open. Most people are aware that the White Tower is a fortress that protects them from some unspeakable danger. They don't realize that the said dangers are kept _within_ it.

A guard on duty curtly nods as I enter, clearly recognizing my status as a Kyoshi Warrior even without the armor and makeup. She calls up another guard to lead me through the maze of uniform-looking hallways. The doors are labeled in no logical pattern I can recognize, making me wonder what sort of secrets are kept hidden behind those walls.

We stop in front of a door labeled [十*四 || 五*七 = 同*士*討]. _Ten-four || five-seven = same-warrior-attack_?

"You sure you want to be alone with her?"

I mutely nod in reply. 

The guard eyes me from head to toe, as if appraising my ability to defend myself, before blurting out, "She can barely bend anymore. Still don't think this is a good idea, though."

"I know." Fire is never the only thing that makes the mad princess dangerous. "I can take her."

With an uncertain shrug, the guard opens the door to let me in. "I'll be back in an hour."

The door shuts behind me, followed by the sound of numerous bolts sliding into place, locking me in. 

The room itself is fortified with stone and metal—nothing to burn. It still smells like smoke and ash though, and judging by the color of the walls, it's clear why. In front of me is a distinct line bisecting the room into two: the scrubbed white area I'm standing in, and the scorched black area where she is.

She's slouched against the far wall. Her tunic, almost too filthy to be recognized as grey cheesecloth, hangs loosely on her frame. Silently, she watches me like a dragon eyeing its prey. I could almost see the fumes streaming out of her nose with each tense breath.

But then, perhaps dragons breathe fire because their hearts burn in agony.

I squarely sit on my side of the floor, feet propping my buttocks off the floor and fists resting on my thighs—a seiza pose befitting a warrior.

I try to put on a smile.

"Hey, Azula."

  

 _kizunahanashi_ (傷な話)

—a wounding story (or "a wound" describing "the story")

 

 

* * *

 

 

_You hold me without touch_

_You keep me without chains_

_I never wanted anything so much_

_than drown in your love and not feel your reign_

(“Gravity” by Sara Bareilles)

 

 * * *

 

"Look who finally graced me with her presence." Azula jerkily pushes her weight against the wall to stand then leans back against it, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why are you here?"

I tightly clutch the fabric of my pants as my smile becomes wooden. “Can’t I just visit an old friend?”

“Friend?” she scoffs. Then she starts laughing at me—a cruel and mirthless laugh. “Because you throw _friends_ in a nuthouse prison to forget they ever exist? Oh how much progress we've achieved post-war!"

"I never forgot about you! I was, um..." I awkwardly look down at the green kimono I'm wearing. Suddenly, it feels too heavy, too hot, too cloying. My fingers discreetly loosen the sash holding it in place. "Away," I lamely finish.

"Obviously." She rolls her eyes in that intimately condescending way of hers. "You look even more like a peasant now than, well, ever." 

"Look down on me all you want, but I'm in a better place now than I ever was with you!"

I didn't mean to yell at her, but that doesn't matter. These are words I never had the courage to say before, and I throw them at her now like a set of Mai's poisoned knives. Her face contorts into something ugly and horrifying; I almost cower away. An invisible force grips my heart and I find myself gasping for air. Desperately, I tug on my kimono until it falls open and I can breathe again.

Azula furiously pushes off the wall and moves towards me, staggering as if she can barely maintain balance. But the way her golden eyes zero in on me reminds me of a cheetiger closing in on its prey. Her gaze mesmerizes me, and I am frozen in place. She stumbles, almost on top of me, her hands falling on my shoulders as she steadies herself. Sharp fingernails dig past my clothes and break into my skin. I won't be surprised to see blood there later. She levels her face to mine, so closely I can almost see my reflection in her eyes.

"And where would that place be?" she growls, deliberately stressing each word. Her breath smells acrid like stale vomit. I fight the urge to turn my head away by defiantly looking her in the eye. I am not weak and I will not break. Her lips curl into a smile at my efforts. Predatory. Beautiful. "I missed seeing that waver in your eyes whenever you're terrified of me. It was always there before, and it's still there now." 

“I wasn't with you just because I feared you, Azula." This is where I'll stand my ground. "I truly did love you.”

“Spare me the sentimental gibbering," she spits, shoving me hard. I briefly see sparks when my head hits the clean stone floor. We fall into an all too familiar position of her hands pinning my wrists on either side of my head. Her irises moved around wildly as she screams, "You betrayed me! You never really cared about me!”

"I loved you for years!" I scream back. "I gave you everything, but it was never enough for you. Then you tried to take _everything_ away. You tried to kill Zuko and Mai and... _You even tried to kill_ me!“

She opens her mouth, probably for another scathing response, but simply closes it again. We glare at each other in silence, energies momentarily spent in our shouting. She doesn't move to release her hold on me, and I do not struggle against her. Our chests move in time with each other, our breathing oddly in sync. When she finally says something, her words are dismissive and barely audible and I should know better than listen to the underlying hurt in them.

"Are you done?"

She is poison running through my veins, and my blood turns bitter.

"Let me go, Azula," I coldly reply. "You don’t have power over me anymore.” 

“We both know that’s not true, or you wouldn’t be here in the first place.” 

She leans forward, her nose pressing to my cheek, almost nuzzling me. Then she licks me, rough tongue tracing a slow wet line along my neck before dipping into my ear. I squirm at the way her saliva squelches the deeper she goes, and something warm and liquefying and disgusting pools inside me as her breaths hit my damp skin.

"Azula, stop..."

She forces a kiss to shut me up, her tongue slipping past my lips. She tastes putrid and sickening, like something died in her mouth a long time ago. Her hands fiercely explore my body, squeezing hard at all the soft places and smearing her filth all over my flesh. Her kisses trail lower until she's suckling the dip in my collarbone and I fail to hold back a moan. I feel her smile against my skin; her ministrations are eating away at my resolve.

"Enough!" I buck my hips, dislodging her body just enough for the right leverage, and kick off the floor. I flip our bodies, heels over head, until we land on the other side with me straddling her waist.

Now, the prey has become the predator.

For a brief moment, I see her eyes quiver in surprise... or perhaps, fear?

But it is only for a moment.

"What now, Ty Lee?" she sneers, as if she'd just won our little game. She's daring me to do something drastic, I'm sure, only because she thinks I don't have the guts to follow through.

(After all, Ty Lee is kind, friendly, and fiercely loyal. She'll never hurt the woman she loves.)

(Oh, how much of a fool you must think of me, Azula!)

(I'll wipe that smug smile off your face.)

I smash my lips against hers, biting on them hard until I sputter on the metallic taste of blood. I tear open her tunic and my sharp teeth leave cuts and bruises all over her neck, shoulders, and chest—recompense for the way she marked me every time we made love before.

(I never forgot you and I never stopped fearing you.)

She tries to claw at my shoulders in retaliation, but her hands only slip at my kimono. Without missing a beat, I take off the stupid thing and throw it aside. Long nails scratch at the tank top I have underneath, ripping cloth and skin alike, stripping away layers of my new life until I'm left with nothing but the remnants of my old one.

Even then, she burns away the rest. 

(You were with me, no matter how far I ran. Always whispering to me in the dark, offering lies of love and sweet, sweet release.) 

I groan when my back hits the ash-covered floor, soot and grime smearing my whole body. We roll all over each other, naked and bleeding, our mouths interlocked and our limbs intertwined, as we struggle for dominance. In an instant of searing pain, I find myself cornered. Her fingers ignite a fire inside me; I sink deeper into her to stifle any sound.

There are no winners in our game. 

And amid the gasps and moans and wet noises, she never notices her wounds and I never notice my burns. 

(We are so broken.) 

This woman has the same golden eyes as the princess Azula. That same confident smile. That same proud stature. But it's not her, not anymore. She is broken and she is no longer the Azula I love.

Yet here I am, still.

Something always brings me back to her.

So we fuck each other, again and again, screaming until we're hoarse.

And then we curl into ourselves and silently weep.

 

 _kizunahanashi_ (紲話)

—a story about bonds/tethers

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Little by little, I'll disappear into your unchanging smile_

_Little by little, I'll be separated from the heart I knew you touched_

_Yeah, this sadness… may nothing further be heard of it_

_That I may softly close my ears…_

_That I may not be completely broken…_

(“Untitled” by The GazettE)

 

* * *

 

I reflexively squint as the wooden gates open. It has always been sunny in the Fire Nation, but today everything seems too bright.

I shade my eyes with a hand as I made my exit, cheerily greeting every on-duty guard along the way despite the pain. The cheesecloth tunic under my kimono rubs on my wounds every time I move, the smarting a constant reminder of its presence.  I got it from the guard who fetched me after my visit. It's the same shade of grey as the one Azula was wearing; perhaps it's standard issue for inmates.  

As soon as I'm through the gates and out of sight, I let my smile drop, like a mask falling off, and let out a heavy sigh.

" _Kizunahanashi_ ," I mutter, in the same tone I use when I curse. The word itself doesn't mean anything in Fire Nation Common, but I've picked up bits of languages while travelling around the world. This one is a play on homophones from the Kotodama regional dialect of the seaside colonials. I coined it while staring at the four corners of my cell in Boiling Rock. It seemed apt to describe my fate then.

It seems apt to describe my fate now.

"Nice to see you're up bright and early."

I whirl around towards the voice, fists raised and ready for a fight. But it's only Suki, still in the pajamas she wore to bed last night, and she seems displeased. I lower my stance, but the tension doesn't leave my body.

"Hey, Suki!" I plaster the brightest smile I could, but my face feels like it's made of black wood. 

Suki doesn't buy in to my smile, if her lack of response is any indication. She silently examines me, eyes scrutinizing every detail of my current appearance. I consciously feel the drops of sweat forming at my nape then trickling down along my spine.

"W-What's up?" I ask, as a last ditch effort at casual conversation. But Suki just briskly walks up to me, grabs my hand, and pushes back the sleeve.

I wince, half from the pain and half from how she'd react to what she's seeing. My forearm is covered in fresh burns that run little more than skin deep and I couldn't wash off all of the soot and ash clinging to my skin.

Sighing, Suki lets my sleeve drop back but she doesn't let go of my hand.

"You're one of my best warriors, Ty, and possibly the sweetest person I know. You deserve so much better." 

"I know," I say in the same tone I use when talking about the weather. 

"Then why do you keep doing this to yourself?!" Suki is not Fire Nation, but her eyes blaze as she speaks. "There are other people out there, _people_ who actually care about you!" She's mad at me, but she doesn't breathe fire. And she still wouldn't let go of my hand. "I hate seeing you get hurt."

"It's Azula." I shrug. My eyes tremble as I try to hold on to my smile.

"She's psychotic. She can't make you happy."

It's been a long night and my cheeks are starting to hurt. I give up on smiling and seriously look Suki in the eye.

“I know," I say, "But it's _Azula_."

Just like that, I take the fire out of her and Suki is back to being solid earth. She sighs again, before curling her fingers underneath mine. She brings my hand to her lips and kisses my palm, and then my wrist, right over my burns. It stings horribly, but I don't let it show. I don't want her to know my pain.

Finally, she lets go.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Ty. Our shift is starting in an hour.”

I turn my back on The White Tower and follow Suki leading me through the gardens, past the beds of red flowers swaying in the wind.

I look back.

彼岸花— red spider lilies.

I heard a story once, in the Kotodama region. They say it's called "the flower leading to Nirvana" because it blooms on the path to the afterlife shores. Each blossom possesses a memory of your life that you can revisit, before you leave the reincarnation cycle and completely forget everything. That's why, in the language of flowers, it represents longing and loss— a symbol for parting lovers.

It is the flower for "those who will never meet again."

 

_kizunahanashi_ (瑕な話)

—a defective story (or "a flaw" describing "the story")

 

 

 

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Special thanks to my beta [kint_sugi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kint_sugi) for knowing when to egg me on and when to reign me in. Check out her awesome Asami-centric story, [Oil and Water](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3175376)
> 
> This is actually a re-boot of a failed story I posted before, titled Lycoris Radiata. The POV and themes didn't work for me then, so I shelved it for a few years and then POOF! This happened.
> 
> Now I'll ramble about the amount of research and thought that went into the writing of this story, because I’m a crazy person YAY! \8D/
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't know Chinese, so all of the foreign characters popping in this story came from my limited knowledge of the Japanese language.
> 
> "Kizunahanashi" is a play on words that I thought up. Depending on the kanji characters used, it could mean different things, as seen in each segment's end title. 
> 
> The Red String of Fate is a common legend you'll encounter one way or another if you're exposed to Japanese, Chinese, or Korean stuff. It's exactly as stated in the narration—a link connecting soul mates.
> 
> The story of Zhi Nu and Niu Lang is another common legend, but people are more likely to recognize its Japanese incarnation—the Tanabata legend of Orihime and Hikoboshi. The English names of the stars in the legend are Vega and Altair, and can be found in the Lyra and Aquila constellations respectively.
> 
> 彼岸花 (higanbana) is one of the many Japanese names for the Red Spider Lily (Lycoris Radiata). Most of the stuff in the narration is accurate to what I've researched about Hanakotoba/Flower Language, The Legend of Manjushaka (another name for the flower), and other myths about its relation to Higan/Nirvana.
> 
> "Ten-four, five-seven" are numbers that, if read a certain way, will spell out the pronunciation for 同士討 (doushiuchi), which in turn means "internecine strife" or "killing each other by mistake."
> 
> Kotodama, off the top of my head, is a Japanese concept that spoken or written words hold power or spiritual influence over the speaker or listener. Some (like me) interpret its application as, "I speak, therefore it is/I am.
> 
> Also, I am aware of the difference between the words "psychotic" and "psychopathic." The one I used is my intended meaning. I believe Azula has always had some sort of morality code, no matter how twisted it seems by our standards. She's pretty messed up. 
> 
> Colors and clothing are important motifs in this story. Everything that happens to Ty Lee's clothes is representative of what's going on with her psychologically.
> 
> Pink, as mentioned, is a happy color. It mostly represents innocence, sweetness, and love. Ty Lee wears pink in most of the series proper, and frequently mentions that having a pink aura means happiness or joy.
> 
> Red is the color of fire, passion, and blood. It's a strong color, usually used to emphasize something. Also, it's the color of the Fire Nation.
> 
> Green is the color of change, safety, and life. It's the color of the Earth Kingdom, which gave Ty second chance to a happy life. It is also the color of envy.
> 
> To whitewash, according to Merriam-Webster, is "to prevent people from learning the truth about something bad, such as a dishonest, immoral, or illegal act or situation." It's also a kind of paint used to cure adobe bricks. Fitting for The White Tower.
> 
> Grey is a drab, depressing color. In some ways, it is the opposite of pink. It could also mean emptiness or a lack of emotion, as it is a combination of two neutral "non-colors" (black and white).
> 
> (more notes may be added, as needed)


End file.
